The past catching up
by Made by Nina
Summary: Molly Hooper isn't the shy pathologist everybody thought she was. Can she be trusted after Sherlock and John learn about her past? One thing is absolutely certain: Sherlock will see her in a different light after this.
1. Chapter 1 - The beginning of the end

**Chapter 1**

**The beginning of the end**

Molly stood on the rooftop of one specific government building, gazing out over the city of lights. She loved London at night time. It was buzzing and had a promise of freedom. A freedom that she thought she had a hold of, only to watch it slip away from her grasp. Somehow this felt very unreal. Like a dream. A nighmare that she once had woken up from. But the reality of it had hit her like a cannonball in the stomach when the one person she thought she had beaten had turned up to torture her once more. She had settled in in London. She had a life. She had colleagues and she had friends. And most importantly: she had Sherlock. Well, not in the sense that she wished she had him. But he was there, a part of her life. And that was something she wasn't ready to let go of. Her train of thought was interrupted when she felt her phone vibrate in the pocket of her black slim pants. She picked it up and read the message:

_Get file no 411 and bring it to me. You've got 1 hour. _

She gazed out over London one last time before she picked the lock of the maintenance door. Through there she would trick the alarm system that would give her enough time to climb down the elevator vent. She felt a thrill down her spine when the door unlocked and suddenly she had a big smug smile on her lips. She had missed this. She had actually missed this.

* * *

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

It had been a long day at S:t Bart's for Molly. One car accident had brought her 3 dead bodies and one of them was a 10 year old girl. After that, there had been one drowning and three suspected suicides. She had lot of paper work to catch up on but before she could sit down and start digging in to it, she had to check the tissue samples of the suspected suicides.

When she walked in to the lab, he was already there.

"I didn't expect you here today, Sherlock." She said as she put her lab coat on.

"Been here since 3 am. Now shut up, I'm busy. And please do not wear those shoes ever again. They are very distracting. I'd prefer you'd take them off now."

He didn't even look up from the microscope.

"You've been here since 3 in the morning?"

"That's what I said. Now please shut up!"

"At least he asked nicely this time." She murmured to herself, referring to Sherlock saying please.

"What?" Sherlock was now looking at her with his ice blue eyes, watching every move she made. Deducing.

"Nothing." She answered with amusement in her voice.

"I told you to take off those shoes, they're annoying me."

She ignored his remark on her shoes and took her place by the other microscope, preparing the tissue samples for inspection. She felt him watching her as she calmly prepared her samples, trying not to look back at him. It took all her willpower in fact. Suddenly she felt like hitting him on the nose. Well hitting him on the nose, metaphoricly. Finally she said, without looking up from her work:

"You're staring, Sherlock."

She could actually imagine him narrowing his eyes, giving her a suspicious look. But before he had a chance to say anything, he was interrupted by John Watson walking in to the lab with two cups of coffee. Sherlock had now someone else to focus himself on and Molly let out a relieved sigh.

"Hello, Molly!" John said and gave a smile in her direction.

He seemed to be in a good mood. And he always managed to make her feel a bit more comfortable around Sherlock.

"Hi John."

She had looked up from her work, still ignoring Sherlock (who, by now, would be a bit irritated because he didn't like being ignored) and gave John a smile back.

"If I'd known I'd run in to you, I would've brought you coffee." He said while putting one of the cups down on the table in front of Sherlock.

"It's okey, I've already had too much coffe today." She answered smiling.

"Rough day, then?"

"You have no idea..."

"BORED!"

John and Molly looked at Sherlock who just had interrupted their conversation, apparantly wanting the attention on himself. He was like a five year old boy, sometimes. John gave Sherlock a dejected look. He wished Sherlock could be less rude. But then again, Sherlock wouldn't be Sherlock if he changed. That, however, didn't stop John from giving him a piece of his mind.

"We were having a conversation, Sherlock."

"A dull one." Sherlock answered. "I have more interesting things to share."

"Sherlock, now you're being rude."

"I'm always rude."

Molly watched the two men spat like an old married couple and she couldn't help but giggle a little. This interrupted their conversation and Sherlock was about to say something, but the grey doors to the lab sprung open and D.I. Lestrade made his entrance.

"We have a live one!" He exclaimed, seemingly excited. "I mean, a dead one. I need you, Molly, in the morgue, now."

Molly had never seen the Detective Inspector this excited by a dead body before. She followed him out of the lab. And of course, Sherlock and John did the same.

They entered the morgue and Molly walked up to the body lying on the examination table, while putting on a pair of latex gloves she had picked up on the table standing to the left a couple of feet from the doors to the cold examination room.

"The man on your table is identified as a Tucker McCreary, and he is the head of the..."

"...McCreary clan, a drug empire from Scotland."

Molly didn't realize she had filled in the words coming out of Lestrades mouth. Not until she looked up from the body on the three men staring at her.

"Y-yes. How did you know that?" Lestrade asked, sounding a bit confused.

Molly swallowed nervously. How was she going to explain this?


	2. Chapter 2 - Findings

**Chapter 2**

**Findings**

_Thank you so much for the reviews. I hope you're going to enjoy this story. Now on to chapter two. I have a feeling this story will be a long one, so bare with me please. _

_English is not my first language so excuse me if there is any wrong spellings or wrong grammar. _

_**Disclaimer: **__i do not own BBC's characters. I do own the dead character of Tucker McCreary though._

* * *

Molly managed to trick the alarmsystem. It was easy. She knew exactly what to do and how much time it would give her. The lack of security in a brittish government building surprised her. Especially this one. It was where Mycroft Holmes worked and she knew him well enough to know that this could not be an ordinary government building. And then it hit her.

"I am so fucking stupid!"

She knew what was going on. She was led in to a trap.

"Off course it's a trap." She said to herself.

It had to be. Or did Mycroft think that nobody would be stupid enough to even try to break in and steal something, that he had pulled back on the security? There was only one way to find out. And Molly didn't have a choice anyway. The lives of the people she cared about was at stake. She hooked herself up to the climbing gear, looked down the elevator shaft and jumped.

* * *

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Molly swallowed nervously. How was she going to explain this?

"Well..." she began, searching in her mind for a logical explenation.

Damn, she was rusty. She used to be very good at coming up with lies on the spot. And then she remembered.

"...The McCreary clan HAS been on the news a lot lately. I recognized the name from the telly."

Lestrade seemed to accept her explenation. She was relieved and let out a quiet sigh before she realized that Sherlock was watching her. He didn't seem so convinced. Once again he narrowed his eyes, looking suspiciosly at her as Lestrade continued his briefing.

"Yes, well, the clan has eluded us, being on a rampage all around London and we still haven't found their secret underground lair. That is why I was surprised to find McCreary himself, dead, down by the industrial rail road track. I can't think of anyone who would be powerful enough to take him down. Every god damn criminal in this town are afraid of him."

"And you're concerned that someone even more dangerous is making their way up the food chain." Sherlock concluded.

"Yes."

"It's a logical assumption." Sherlock said. "I'm in."

He gave Molly a last suspicious glance before he abruptly turned around and started to walk away from them.

"Hold the body. I need to examine the crime scene." He shouted before he disappeared out the doors.

"We better go after him" Said John and rushed after Sherlock.

"Yes, we better." Lestrade gave Molly a look and she nodded to answer his unasked question.

"I will call if I find anything interesting." She said.

Lestrade rushed after Sherlock and John. Molly was left alone in the cold examination room with the dead body. She was used to it. She actually prefered it. This time she did, anyway.

"That was a close call, my dear McCreary." She said, looking down at the dead body. "Lucky for me you've not been lazy since the last time I saw you. And lucky for me I get to cut you open. I said I would do that one day. You didn't believe me."

She used to talk to the dead bodies. The only difference now was: she knew this one.

"Well, let's see what you've got for me, Tucker."

He was still wearing his clothes and it was up to the pathologist to take them off. As she struggled with his pants she noticed something falling out of their pocket. It was a note. She picked it up and out of habit she put the note in an evidence bag before she looked at it. She almost stopped breathing when it became clear to her what the note said.

_Golden Hawk_

It was a code she hadn't heard for at least 8 years. Without hesitation she put the evidence bag with the note in her lab coat pocket. Then she looked at the dead Tucker McCreary on her examination table.

"Why did you have that code on you?" She asked, not really expecting an answer. "Let's hope that was all you had on you that could connect you to me."

She was interrupted by one of the crime scene investigators coming through the doors in to the morgue.

"Miss Hooper?"

"Yes."

The man was carrying a box with evidence.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade asked me to give these evidence bags for you. He wants you to examine them."

The man did not look happy about this. And she understood him, because usually she wasn't the one who got to examine the evidence from a crime scene. She was usually the one who took care of the dead body. But apparantly Lestrade needed her eyes on this. And it was a perfect opportunity for her to look for more evidence that could be disastrous for her.

"Thank you." She said politely. "Have you already catalogued these?"

If they were already catalouged it would be harder for her to hide it if she found something.

"No, we just bagged them." The crime scene investigator answered.

He seemed a little reluctant to leave the evidence with her but she gave him a nod and took the evidence box from him. He walked out from the morgue and Molly rushed to an empty table and poured out the contents. Her heart was racing. After so many years she didn't think she'd stand in the morgue trying to look through evidence that she could hide from the police.

She looked through every evidence bag carefully three times, at least, before she concluded that there was nothing there to hide.

"Thank god!" She thought out loud.

She put the evidence bags back in the box and decided to concentrate on Mr. McCreary. When she had stripped him of all his clothes and carefully examined the body she was ready to dig in.

"This could have turned out very badly for me." She said picking up a scalpel. "Well, I think it's going to end up badly for you, you know, me cutting you up and all."

While doing the autopsy, she couldn't help but get a little worried. The evidence bag with the note was still in her lab coat pocket and she didn't care a bit that she had stolen it. It was necessary for her to hide it. To protect herself.

"Found anything?"

She was startled by the deep baritone voice, which she knew belonged to Sherlock. Well, he always startled her. He had a tendency to show up when she least expected it. And now she was a little annoyed. The stress of old things, and old (now dead) acquaintances, popping up to the surface had got her blood pumping really fast. And the presence of Sherlock was not helping the cause.

"Please Sherlock, can you stop doing that!" She said, raising her voice a little more than she intended.

He gave her another one of his "You're puzzling me"-looks and then leaned in to look inside McCreary's stomach.

"You didn't answer the question." He said.

"No, I haven't found anything yet. I told Lestrade I would call if I did and I'm not finished yet. So please go away Sherlock. I'm not in the mood for anything that involves you right now."

She surprised herself. She wasn't usually this bold around Sherlock. She had almost forgotten how it felt to be confident and bold.

"Is it that time of the month?" Sherlock asked suddenly, and Molly looked up from the content of the dead man's stomach and torso.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Are you menstruating? Because usually you don't bite my head off like this. I have actually never experienced you being so...feisty."

Molly took a deep breath. Pulling in the smell of death in her nostrils. This was not good. She was starting to lose her cover. If Sherlock started to suspect something then all would be lost. She had to keep her act together.

"N-no." She stuttered. "It's been a long day, that's all."

They stood there, on opposite sides of a dead body, looking at each other for a couple of seconds that felt like an eternity for Molly. She let her eyes wander to his lips and imagined what they would taste like. But before she could let her thoughts wander further away, Sherlock cleared his throat and interrupted her train of thought. Abruptly he turned around and left the blushing pathologist standing alone with a dead druglord she just had cut open.

* * *

_I know, she's a pathologist. A pathologist handles tissues and diseases but I made an exception for this story. She is a doctor, after all._

_We'll see when I get the chance to update next time._


	3. Chapter 3 - Suspicions

_So here is the third chapter. I tried to write from Sherlocks point of view as well, and I hope I captured his essence. He is hard to write because one doesn't simply know what's going on in his brilliant head. Hope you enjoy this one._

_English is still not my first language. So bare with me if there is any mistakes._

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own BBC's characters but I do own the dead McCreary_

* * *

**Chapter 3**

**Suspicions**

When Molly was walking home after her long, quite puzzling day, she felt like she was being watched. She ignored it, thinking that it was probably stress from what she had found in Tucker McCreary's pocket. The note with the code that she knew all too well. She had been so careful that she thought it impossible that anyone from her turmoil past could have found her. She was dead to them. She had made sure that she was.

The code was just a coincidence. It was nothing. She was sure of it. Then why was she hiding evidence from Lestrade and Sherlock?

Because deep down she knew that it wasn't just a coincidence.

She was getting paranoid. And she had probably made Sherlock suspicious with her "out-of-place"-behaviour. It wasn't good. She needed him to believe that she was the shy pathologist with a huge crush on him. If Sherlock couldn't figure out who she really was then there was nobody who could and that made her safe. She needed Sherlock for this.

But she also needed him in another way. A deeper way. Although she knew that it was never going to happen. The truth was that she really loved him. She had fallen in love with him from the moment that she saw him. And she knew that there had been no going back after he had impressed her with his skills. He was remarkable. Brilliant. He knew he was. And that was what made him unreachable.

She didn't count. Only when he needed her to do something. She's a means to an end. But the fact of the matter is that she will always love him. No matter what.

"It's pathetic, isn't it?" She thought to herself.

Of course it is! Who, in their right mind, falls in love with a man who is obviously emotionally unavalaible?

When she came up to her flat she decided that she needed to re-invent Molly Hooper. Molly Hooper needed to get over her crush on Sherlock Holmes. She needed stability. A future. If she dug herself deeper in to normality it would be harder to spot her. A man like Sherlock was not normality. So no more dreaming about Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

Sherlock didn't know what to think. He always knew when something was going on. And there was definitely something going on with Molly. He needed to go to his mind palace and sort things out. She had been thrown off by something. She had found something concerning McCreary but why wouldn't she tell him? It didn't matter. He would figure it out. He always did. But it bothered him that she knew something that he didn't. And it was something that had made some kind of impression on her.

"What IS it?" He asked out loud.

John was sitting in his chair, reading the news paper. He looked up at Sherlock who was standing by the window looking like he was concentrating really hard on something across the street.

"What is what?" He asked.

"Molly was acting wierd today." Sherlock answered without looking at John.

"No she wasn't. She was her usual self."

"I grant you that she's always wierd. But today she was _different_."

John put down the news paper and looked at Sherlock. Was he going mad or something?

"Different how?"

"She was ignoring me. And then she yelled at me."

"She yelled at you? When?"

"Today, when I went back to the morgue. She practically yelled at me. She's hiding something. I can't figure out what. And she wasn't menstruating. I asked."

"You asked her if she was menstruating?"

"Yes."

"No wonder she yelled at you then."

John picked up the news paper again and continued reading it.

"This is serious John. She is hiding something."

"For God's sake, Sherlock. It's Molly you're talking about. Why would she hide something? You're just bored again because you've probably already found out who killed McCreary so you're looking for cases where there is none."

Sherlock gave John a poisonous look and started pacing back and forth in the living room.

"Or maybe she doesn't have a crush on you anymore." John continued.

"Impossible."

John let out a snigger and put the news paper down once more.

"Is it _impossible_ that she would stop having a crush on you?"

John shook his head in amusing disbelief.

"You and your ego, Sherlock." He said and sniggered once more.

Sherlock stopped pacing and sat down in the chair across from John.

"I haven't figured it out yet." He said.

"Figured what out?" John didn't bother to look away from his news paper.

"Who killed McCreary."

John looked up from his reading.

"Then why are you obsessed with Molly?"

"I'm not obsessed. I'm never obsessed."

"Then work on the case. Figure out who killed McCreary and leave Molly be."

"I can't. There is a connection. I know it!"

"Let it go, Sherlock. Molly has no connection to a scottish drug lord. It's Molly. She is sweet and innocent."

"That is what she wants us to believe. It's a conspiracy."

"For God's sake Sherlock! There is no conspiracy involving Molly and McCreary."

Sherlock jumped up from his chair and started to pace back and forth again. Maybe John was right. He wasn't being logical. Molly may be a smart pathologist. But she wasn't a criminal master mind.

He couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him though. He couldn't put her out of his mind. He went to his mind palace, but all he could see was Molly standing in front of him, on the other side of the examination table, and how she had moved her eyes to his lips and how it had made him feel like he wanted to press them against hers.

He was not being logical at all.

* * *

_So what do you think? Any feedback? I will update the next chapter as soon as I can._


	4. Chapter 4 - Unexpected visit

_Here comes chapter 4 for your reading. Wow, Sherlock is really hard to write and it took me a couple of hours, but I think I'm happy with the result of this chapter. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer: **__I do not own BBC's characters._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

**Unexpected visit**

Molly had trouble sleeping that night. She dreamt bizarre dreams about Sherlock chasing her with a large magnifier glass, like old time detectives used to carry around. She found herself tangled in her bed sheets and kicked them away in frustration. She sat up on the side of the bed and glanced at the digital clock she had installed on her bedside table. It was 3.30 in the morning. She got up and made her way to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face.

"This is so not good." She said out loud as her cat, Toby, stroked his soft fur against her legs.

Toby meowed, like he was asking her what the matter was.

She picked the cat up and cuddled her face in to his fur and Toby purred in delight.

But the cuddle abruptly ended when someone knocked on her apartment door.

"Who in the bloody hell could that be at this hour?"

She didn't care that the t-shirt she was wearing was too short. She was tired and annoyed as she made her way to the door and looked through the peephole and discovered, to her own dread, that Sherlock was standing outside. Her heart started racing as she slowly unlocked it and opened.

Before she knew it, Sherlock had pushed his way past her and in to her flat without as much as a hello.

Now she became irritated.

"What are you doing here Sherlock? It's 3.30 in the morning. NOT the time to visit someone."

"It's 3.35 and you're up. I saw you turn on your lights and I took the opportunity to come up."

"Wait, what?"

Was he spying on her from the street?

"Where you standing outside on the street waiting for me to turn my lights on?"

"Don't be ridicilous. Why would I?"

"Because you're crazy? Because you were bored and thought this would be a great time to make other people crazy?"

"You don't act like yourself, Molly. Are you alright?"

Molly was thrown back by his question. But she was still a bit irritated by him.

"Really? You're asking me if I'm alright? I think I should be asking _you_ that, since this is the first time you've ever set foot in my apartment, and you're here 3.35 in the morning, when normal people should be sleeping."

She had raised her voice more than she had intended and realized that Sherlock was now standing no more than two feet from her. When had he moved that close to her?

"This is the second time in less than 12 hours that you've yelled at me." He said.

"I'm not yelling."

"You have never yelled at me before."

He took another small step towards her and gave her a puzzling look. Molly suddenly felt very aware of herself. She could swear that the t-shirt she was wearing wasn't that tiny before.

"Sherlock, you're kind of invading my personal space."

She couldn't keep her voice steady and apparantly Sherlock didn't feel like moving away from her.

"What are you hiding from me?" He whispered, looking in to her eyes, trying to deduce her.

She needed air. He was standing too close and she needed to put space between them so she wouldn't do anything stupid, like grabbing his coat and pulling him closer so she could kiss him. She manoeuvred herself past him and took cover behind her livingroom chair.

Now she could breathe normally, although she felt her blood rushing in her veins making it hard for her to concentrate. Why was he there? She didn't like the way he made her feel. Not because it wasn't pleasant, but because she knew she could never act upon it. She just wished that those feelings she had for him would go away.

Maybe she should tell him everything? That would certainly put some distance between them. She would never have to worry about seeing him again and feeling helpless because of her emotions for him. She would definitely get over him if he wasn't in her life anymore.

The idea was stupid of course. She loved her life, her friends, her job. She loved Sherlock. It was a cross she had to bare.

"You haven't answered my question." She said, giving him a determined look.

"What question?"

"What are you doing here?"

"It seems like we're both asking questions without getting any answers." Sherlock said, while walking around in her living room, making his deductions as he swept his eyes through every little detail of her living space.

This was getting bizarre. She let out a dejected sigh as she followed every move Sherlock made in her living room.

"I have to go to work in a couple of hours, Sherlock. I am too tired to even comprehend this situation. So if you have something important to say, then say it!"

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, narrowing his eyes, giving her that suspicious look again. It had become a habit these past hours. It drove her a little bit mad.

"Well, I'm off then." He said suddenly and turned around and walked out of her apartment, leaving her standing behind her chair wondering why he had come in the first place.

* * *

He walked fast and with determination, putting more and more space between him and Molly Hooper. She had asked what he was doing in her flat and he wondered the same. He usually didn't sleep when he was on a case and he still hadn't figured out who killed Tucker McCreary. After he had been putting a word out to his homeless network he had suddenly found himself standing outside Mollys apartment.

He had actually never been inside, and when he had seen that she had put the lights on, he had made his way in and knocked on her door.

Why? He didn't know.

And when he had seen her in her tiny t-shirt it had taken all his willpower to contain himself. This was not logical. This was not him. He was above human emotions. Emotions were distracting. They were unnecessary. He had done well without them. Then why was he constantly thinking about Molly?

"It's the case. It has to be the case. She is involved and I'm going to prove it."

* * *

_Sherlock in a nutshell. He obviously FEELS something. And he finds it highly illogical. I'm having fun with this story. I have no idea where it's going yet. But I promise you that in time I will reveal something about Mollys past. I'm not yet sure of how, when and how the reactions will be, but I hope you're going to enjoy the ride anyway. I will try to update the next chapter as soon as I have time left over._


	5. Chapter 5 - Her plan goes in to oblivion

_Yes people. I am still alive. Sorry for the late update. It took me a couple of days to actually figure out what would happen in this chapter and how much I wanted to reveal about Mollys past. This chapter does not have any Sherlock-point-of-view. But I promise, there will be more of him in the next chapter. So this chapter is kind of short._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own BBC's characters._

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_ –_** Her plan goes in to oblivion.**_

When Molly had reached the floor where the file could be found, she hacked in to the main security system with her phone. She needed to shut down the cameras long enough to make her way to the vault where the file would be. It would take no more than a couple of seconds for the security guards to figure out that something was wrong so it wasn't much time for her to go on but there was no other way. On a job like this there would be at least two weeks of preparation but she had to pull this in less than 48 hours. Her stress levels were too high for her to enjoy this properly.

* * *

_**13 days earlier**_

Molly didn't know how to recover from Sherlocks visit. He was acting strange for being Sherlock. And to her dismay she found him in her lab, in a surprisingly good mood, which literally crashed all Mollys plans of keeping distance between them.

"I've been waiting for you." He said, giving her a look that she couldn't decipher.

"Why?" She asked suspiciously.

He was acting strange indeed.

"I'm going to spend the whole day with you."

Yes. There was no doubt now. This was very strange.

"Why?"

"As an experiment."

"What kind of experiment requires you to spend a whole day with me?"

Molly saw her plans of getting over Sherlock go in to oblivion. How was she going to move on from her crush on him if he insisted on being in the same air space as her?

"I need to examine your actions and behaviours from a sociopsychological aspect in a work environment."

Now this was getting wierder.

"But you hate sociopsychology. You hate everything that involves actual people."

This was not normal Sherlock-behaviour. There was something going on that he wasn't telling her. Not that he normally told her anything. But this time it was more than clear that he was working some kind of angle on her. And this made Molly a little angry. Why was he concentrating on her when there was an actual killer out there killing not so innocent drug lords? It's not like Molly killed anyone. Not recently anyway, that she could remember. All jokes aside. She needed to show Sherlock that there was no need for him to focus his energy on her. He had never been focusing on her before so there was absolutely no need for him to do that now.

"Okey. Go ahead and follow me around all day, Sherlock." She said suddenly. "I don't mind at all. But I will warn you though. I am quite boring. I will not be surprised if you give up and leave before lunch."

Well, the truth was that she actually _did_ mind him following her around. It would be very hard for her to concentrate. But she needed him to get his suspicions off her. So she needed to concentrate really hard to be plain and boring Molly Hooper today.

"I doubt it, Molly. I have found you very interesting these past few days." Sherlock said with a smirk on his face.

She might as well be Superman. A female version of Clark Kent. Hiding in plain sight. Being clumpsy, a little shy and everything Clark Kent was. Without the flying and the fire shooting from her eyes of course. Fooling everybody around her. But fooling Sherlock was hard. She was surprised that Sherlock hadn't figured her out yet. Was she that good of an actrice? But she knew he was figuring something out now and it was only a matter of time before she would be exposed to him and everybody else that she knew. So this day was important. It was good that he was there. She needed him to believe that he had it all wrong. Molly Hooper was not a person of interest.

Her past self would probably ask her why she was making such an effort to hide. She used to be good at handling anything that came her way. And that used to be firing guns, bombs and an occasional poisoning. But the day she had become Molly Hooper she had burried that side of herself and that side only came out if there was any immediate danger. She was reserved for emergencies only. Molly couldn't even remember why she was hiding anymore.

She looked at Sherlock who was watching her every move from his usual chair in the lab. This was going to be a very long day.

* * *

_I haven't figured out yet what Mollys past contains. Was she a spy? A thief? An agent of some kind? But first and foremost: What will happen in the next chapter? We will all find out (including myself) the next time my fingers hit the keyboard on my computer. _


	6. Chapter 6 - A dead terrorist

_I am sorry for the delay. But here is chapter 6. I hope you find this one intrigueing._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own BBC's characters but I do own my own._

* * *

**Chapter 6 – A dead terrorist**

Sherlock was going crazy. He was bored out of his mind waiting for some kind of clue that Molly was hiding something. But today she was the same neurotic woman he knew all too well. He couldn't say that Molly hadn't warned him. She had specifically said that she was a boring person, although the previous day had revealed otherwise. He concentrated very hard on every little thing she said and did that day but he couldn't deduce anything else that he didn't already know. But when he was about to give up, something finally caught his attention.

It was late in the afternoon when D.I. Lestrade came in through the doors to the lab. They had found another dead body by the industrial rail road track. But this time they had no identification on it. Sherlock, Lestrade and Molly walked to the morgue to take a look at the body and as soon Molly laid her eyes on it she flinched. She made a big effort to hide it though, but Sherlock saw it. For a few seconds she looked confused and a little frightened.

Sherlock looked closely at the dead body. It was a man of Middle Eastern descent. He had a scar running down from his right ear and down to his collar-bone, which he'd probably had for at least 10 years considering how pale it was. Based on Sherlocks deductions this dead man was probably a member of a Middle Eastern terrorist group and he had never been in the U.K. before.

Sherlock showed off his deductions to Lestrade and gave away a smug smile as the Detective Inspector looked impressed. Molly, however, didn't seem to react at all to his brilliant deduction.

"Very interesting." Sherlock murmured to himself, as he gave Molly that suspicious look once again.

"But what could he possibly be doing at the industrial rail road track and shouldn't he have at least a fake ID on him?" Lestrade asked.

"That is a very good question, Detective Inspector. But most importantly, why was his body taken to England after he was killed in another country?"

Sherlock was pretty pleased with himself.

"What? How do you know that?" Lestrade asked with a little confusion in his voice.

"Obviously I have to run some tests but my educated guess would be Yemen or Saudi Arabia." Sherlock continued, still with that smug smile on his face.

"Yes, well, obviously we must do some tests before we can come to any conclusions of terrorists being killed in the Middle East and their dead bodies being brought to London. Now it's just wild theories coming out of Sherlocks mouth" Molly said quickly, before Sherlock could continue his brilliant theory.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, for the fifth (or was it the sixth) time, and gave her that suspicious look. What was she trying to do?

"Do your tests then!" Lestrade said. "I still haven't found out who killed McCreary and this one is even more puzzling."

Lestrade turned to Sherlock.

"Do you think they're connected?" He asked.

"McCreary and this one? Could be. They were both found at the industrail rail road track and it seems like they were killed the same way." Sherlock answered.

"Or they're not connected at all!" Said Molly loudly. "We shouldn't jump to conclusions, Sherlock."

Molly was definitely trying to do something. She was acting strange and Sherlock became more and more interested in why she would behave like this. She had never tried to discredit his theories before. What was her connection to these deaths?

* * *

Molly was seriously loosing her sanity. The day had went so well. Sherlock had looked bored out of his mind but then Lestrade _had_ to come and ruin it. If he hadn't come in with that dead terrorist, and the day would have gone without any other interruptions, Molly would be cleared of Sherlocks suspicions. But of course there would be something to ruin her hopes.

When she had laid her eyes on that body she had felt like she had been frozen solid for a couple of seconds. The man lying on her examination table was named Aban Nahas and he was in fact from Yemen, as Sherlock had guessed. A very good deduction on his part. Aban had been a part of a terrorist organization, mainly targeting USA. He had actually never set foot in the U.K. And how did Molly know this? She knew everything about this man. Like she knew everything about Tucker McCreary.

Molly felt a chill going down her spine. There was no killer targeting criminals to gain access to run the streets of London. There was a killer targeting criminals to get to her. The question now was: who was trying to send her a message?

There was no way she could tell Sherlock or Lestrade any of this. It was something she had to take care of herself. But at the same time she had to point Sherlock and the Scotland Yard to another direction. And how would she manage that with Sherlock watching every move she made now?

He had a tendensy to make her loose her concentration. And all he had to do was to stand in the same air space as her. She knew he suspected her of something but she prayed to the gods that he hadn't figured out what she was guilty of yet.

She felt like her whole world was crumbling around her and all she wanted to do was to take shelter in Sherlocks arms. Her feelings for him were strong and she hoped that he would never find out the truth about her past and who she really was. She would do anything to keep him from finding out. And for the first time in her life as Molly Hooper she intentionally would deceive Sherlock and her friends to save herself. This was something that the innocent Molly Hooper would never do. But the real Molly would. And for the first time in her entire existance, it scared her.

She looked at Sherlock who seemed to be in a deep conversation with Lestrade. She loved that man so much, even though he didn't love her back. And she didn't want to loose him or her other friends.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep my secret from you." She said quietly to herself.

And she could honestly say that she was afraid of what she might do to keep her secret safe.

* * *

Sherlock was once again pacing back and forth in his flat. John was watching every move he made but that didn't bother him at all. He was in his mind palace, trying to re-play the events of the day and Molly's reactions and behaviour. It bothered him that he couldn't figure out why she was so different now. And why wouldn't she tell him that she was hiding something?

He didn't want to believe that she had a connection to the deaths of McCreary and the Middle Eastern John Doe. But his deductions was clear. He had no evidence though but usually his deductions were spot on. But innocent Molly Hooper couldn't have a connection to drug lords and terrorist.

And why was his mind constantly bringing him back to the sound of her voice, the movements of her body and the scent of her hair? And why did he react on the mental image of a naked Molly moving underneath him? Why did he even have that mental image in his mind palace?

He needed to concentrate on the facts. But there was no facts. He had no evidence. He had always been able to trust his senses but it seemed that they were playing a trick on him. For the first time in his life he seriously started to doubt his abilities. And this because of innocent Molly Hooper. Or was she really _that_ innocent?

"What's the matter with you? You've been pacing back and forth for two hours now." Said John, and therefore broke the silence in the flat.

"I've lost it, John!" Sherlock said with frustration in his voice.

"What have you lost?"

"Logic, John! It's all gone!"

* * *

_So, Sherlock is suffering from all this uncertainty. Things that he can't comprehend. So what do you think of this chapter? And what do you think of the story so far? _


End file.
